


One good deed

by embeer2004



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: (not the two vampires), Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Witcher level violence, monster encounter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 09:55:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15992807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embeer2004/pseuds/embeer2004
Summary: Regis told Geralt how he and Dettlaff had first met, running with the plasma crowd. They’d been foolish youths then, but Dettlaff had left the crowd long before Regis’ drunk flying disaster. Many years later Dettlaff would find Regis at Stygga castle and take it upon himself to help the older vampire regenerate. Why? What made him so loyal and devoted to Regis? An encounter between them, shortly after the humanist had taken Regis under his wing, was only one of the reasons, but quite an important one...





	One good deed

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is shameless self-catering here that I wanted to share – hope you enjoy it! :)

Regis was swirling northwards in his mist-form, following the Nevi river. He didn’t have a destination in mind, he just had to get _out_! He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t rest… thoughts of _those times_ were pressing in on him and his dear friend had been called away to Toussaint a week earlier for an important errand. He hadn’t been ready to join him, didn’t trust himself yet to be among so many humans, so he’d stayed behind. Alone with his thoughts…  
   
All the years of the half century he’d been buried underground had weaned him off the worst of his bloodlust, but he still remembered the euphoric feeling he’d gotten while in a drunk state. And now with his restlessness and inability to sleep the thought of warm and soothing baby human made him yearn for just one drink. Just one… and then he could sleep.  
   
He couldn’t give in though, he’d sworn off blood. Never again! His dear friend had been helping him for so long now; he couldn’t just throw everything he’d been taught and everything he _wanted_ to believe in away. He had to be stronger than that!  
   
So when his mind had started haunting him Regis had misted up from his friend’s home and swirled away, following the wind…  
   
He veered off to the west just shortly before Riedbrune, until he stumbled upon Loch Monduirn. There was a druid camp to the north of the lake; that he knew, but both in the south and western directions the area should be devoid of any humans or other sapient beings. The majority of the area was a vast forest, trees lining nearly the entire pass preceding the slopes of the Amell Mountains.  
  
Regis followed the south-bank of the lake, keeping his ear out for any sign that he was not alone. So far the area was deserted. In fact, it seemed that there was an unnatural quality to the forest’s stillness. It was Lammas already but the nights were quite pleasant, cool not cold; there should have been plenty of sounds around him, despite his vampiric presence. Frogs, owls, foxes, even bears and wyverns… from small to large, nothing, no sounds. At least, not here on the south-bank.  
   
He materialised into his human shape and cocked his head, listening. The wind whirled around him, bringing noises from the druid’s camp towards his sensitive ears. A faint squeaking sounded in the west; low and repeating, quivering and pathetic and familiar somehow. Another sound from the west, similar to a whipping crack, he couldn’t really place the odd sound.   
  
Regis misted up again and swirled west, in search of the source. This was just the sort of thing his mind had apparently been craving; the mystery and intrigue of a challenge instead of dismal ruminations of the past.  
   
When he was closer to the source of the squeaking he materialised again; having actual ears to listen with greatly enhanced his hearing. The low squeaks were turning fainter and seemed to have settled in a familiar rhythm. It reminded Regis of sounds vampire pups made to comfort themselves, but it was slightly different, the pitch was lower, as if made by a young adult. That couldn’t be, could it? There weren’t any vampires habiting the area that he knew of; the closest ones, besides his dear friend, lived in Toussaint.  
  
Regis shook his head. He was imagining things; it was far more likely that these sounds were made by an animal, though he couldn’t actually think of any species that copied _this_ particular sound so closely. Wolves could squeak, but usually once and more like a high-pitched bark, bats squeaked with a higher pitch, as did wyverns, but again, he didn’t know any of these creatures to settle into this familiar rhythm.  
  
All of a sudden he could hear a guttural snarl, made by a different creature than the one squeaking pathetically. Then a dull cracking sound, followed by a metal ring.  
  
Regis misted up and determinedly set off, following the sounds.  
  
*  
  
It was near the mountain’s foot that he stumbled upon what seemed to be a trail of metal snares. The traps seemed to be somewhat evenly spaced around the area, but Regis had no idea what kind of hunter would set such devices, or what they hoped to catch with such crude means; a bear or a draconid perhaps? Regis knew it couldn’t have been the druids, they had other means of mesmerising wild animals and as a rule never harmed any living creature, easily taming them instead. The closest human settlement was in Riedbrune, but setting traps this far out seemed terribly inefficient even for a human; it was far more likely the snares had been laid down by an itinerant hunter of some sort. Curious…  
  
It was when the tree line thinned and the grassy terrain turned into hard rock that the wind swirled in from the west, caught in a loop between the mountains and the forest. It brought a familiar scent to his nose, though it had been many years ago since he last encountered it. Regis froze for a moment, realising what the source of the squeaking was, before hurrying towards the source.  
  
He materialised into his human shape just a short distance from where the mountain slopes started. A large black bat was in front of him, hunched in on itself, hiding its face as best as it could under its large wing. Tense shivers ran through the furry body and there were patches of blood in the fur. A fine layer of silver particles dusted the black body. The bat was still faintly squeaking, but every so often it would whine pitifully.  
  
Butterflies settled in Regis’ body. _This was no bat._ He’d been expecting something else still, an ekimmara or katakan, for instance, but this was a _higher_ vampire, and one he recognised. He’d never seen his young friend’s bat-form before now, but he remembered his scent.  
  
“Dettlaff?” He breathed, taking a step closer to the huddling figure.  
  
The vampiric bat ignored him, still faintly squeaking every few seconds as their kind was wont to do when in distress.  
  
He stepped closer still, eyes drawn to his friend’s wings. The delicate patagium was blistered and bleeding and in some places the silver had completely burnt a hole through the sensitive skin. He hadn’t known that, that Dettlaff was one of the few higher vampires affected by silver; Regis luckily wasn’t affected by that particular metal and, seeing the bat’s tense form, he was extremely glad for it.  
  
“Dettlaff? Can you hear me? I’m going to help you.” Regis’ gaze roved over the furry body, trying to determine the best way to get rid of the silver particles. That’s when he saw the bat’s leg and a furious heat started to well up inside him.  
  
Dettlaff’s leg was caught in a snare similar to the ones he’d seen before and with the silver particles covering his fur the vampire wouldn’t be able to change into an alternate state. In his current form he wouldn’t be able to open the snare; his friend was truly trapped…  
  
Regis felt his features morphing, his claws and fangs elongating, and he had to take a deep breath to prevent himself from changing. His young friend needed help; he couldn’t lose himself to his more bestial side, he had to stay calm. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, in and out, and again, a tactic his dear friend had taught him. Feeling more composed after a few breaths Regis opened his eyes. “It’s going to be all right, Dettlaff.”  
  
Furry ears flicked towards him, the vampire finally sensing his presence. A trembling wing lifted slightly and a black face with a long snout turned towards him. Dettlaff’s lips pulled back in a snarl, clearly revealing the blood gutter in his lower lip, his red eyes wild and frenzied. The vampire’s fur puffed up.  
  
“Hush now, you know me. I’m not here to hurt you. We’re friends, remember?”  
  
Recognition sparkled in those reddish eyes. A squeak. A ruffling of fur. Then Dettlaff licked his lips and settled down, wrapping his wings tightly around himself. The young vampire stilled.  
  
“It has been some time though, hasn’t it? A lot has changed since last we saw each other.” Regis slowly approached and reached out his hand towards Dettlaff’s snout, so different from his own stumped muzzle with its U-shaped grooves. He carefully stroked the soft fur a few times, wiping away some of the silver clinging to the young vampire. “There’s a good lad. Let’s get that horrible snare from your leg first, then we’ll do something about all that silver.”  
  
Dettlaff’s snout butted against the palm of his hand and the young vampire closed his eyes for a few seconds.  
  
Regis stroked the furry snout a final time before moving over to the trapped leg. It was a relatively simple snare, staked to the ground, like the other ones he’d seen during his flight. “All right, I see how the mechanism works. I’m pretty confident I can force the snare’s jaws open. The moment you can, pull your leg free.”  
  
A grunt. The bat’s body tensed.  
  
Just when Regis reached for the metal, a sudden loud crack sounded from above, followed by a sharp noise, like metal hitting something. Looking up, he could see a small cloud of dust particles polluting the air uphill. He couldn’t see anything else, but focusing his ears he determined there was a fight going on.  
  
Regis snarled; he didn’t care about the fight. Freeing Dettlaff was the priority right now. He returned his focus to the snare and reached his hands towards the metal jaws.  
  
Before his hands even touched the metal Dettlaff twisted around and butted his head against his chest, hard, pushing him away only a moment before a dark shadow encroached from above. The young vampire released a high screech and hunched in on himself, trembling.  
  
Regis stumbled several steps backwards, surprised to see a body land just in front of him with a loud thud. Perplexed, he raised his gaze towards the slopes, before focusing his gaze on the tableau before him. He frowned, seeing the man’s armour and the sword scabbards on his back. Unseeing cat-like eyes stared blindly upwards. He’d heard of these creatures. They looked human, but they were different; faster, stronger. This was a witcher, or had been; the man clearly hadn’t survived the impact with the rocky ground, that, or he’d been dead even before he fell from the slopes’ heights; he could easily see the torn and bloodied neck.  
  
Regis swallowed heavily, his mouth salivating at the smell. He quickly pressed his eyes shut and forced himself to stop breathing; he didn’t want to smell the temptation. His control apparently wasn’t that strong yet; he could feel himself wanting to reach forwards, just a sip while the blood was warm.  
  
_No, Dettlaff!_ Dettlaff needed his help! Regis forced his eyes open, refusing to look at the body in front of him. _Focus on the snare!_  
  
There was only one short moment of warning in which Regis heard harsh breathing and noticed the outline of a creature high up on the slopes.   
  
Dettlaff raised his head and chittered at him, clearly agitated. A large wing unfurled and came at him, knocking him backwards just a second before a dark shadow landed harshly on Dettlaff’s back, releasing a high-pitched howl. Sharp claws slashed at the trapped vampire before Dettlaff, panicked, bucked upwards and dislodged the creature.  
  
Regis froze. It was such a large beast; grey fur covering its entire body, somewhat humanoid with the head of a wolf. The werewolf cocked its head at him before narrowing its eyes, its gaze straying towards the witcher’s body. The beast rubbed furiously at its fur, which was smoking where it had touched Dettlaff, and growled at him, saliva dripping in sticky trails from a fanged mouth. The beast then turned around towards Dettlaff with a guttural snarl and raised its claws.  
  
_No!_ Regis misted up and quickly swirled towards the werewolf, materialising just behind it with his own claw extended. Skewering the werewolf, Regis turned around and threw the beast down, away from Dettlaff.  
  
The werewolf swiftly stood up, undeterred by the puncture holes marring its body, which were already closing up before his very eyes. The regenerative capability of werewolves was truly remarkable, though in this instance it was only a hindrance.  
  
“Leave us be,” Regis snarled, displaying his own claws and fangs.  
  
The werewolf lifted its head and howled a long single note before staring at him with malicious eyes, showing off its bloodied claws. Neither of them moved.  
  
Regis could make out Dettlaff squeaking to himself again and he felt a pang of worry in his chest. “Leave, I shall not ask again!”  
  
The werewolf licked its lips and a throaty laugh escaped its throat, then it lowered itself to all fours and rushed at Regis.  
  
Regis saw it coming, so he simply jumped to the side, trying to keep the werewolf’s attention solely focused on him so he could draw it away from Dettlaff. The beast rushed at him, jaws snapping wide, and Regis evaded the creature’s attack, lashing out in return and just missing the werewolf himself. The bastard was quick.  
  
A rustling coming from the east alerted Regis to the fact that soon they wouldn’t be alone anymore and he looked up, towards the noise. The moment of distraction cost him severely though, for the instant he looked away the werewolf rushed at him and bit his neck. The beast seemed intent on ripping out a chunk of flesh and started harshly jerking its head from side to side. His neck felt like it was on fire! Regis panicked, flashing back to the horror stories he’d been told in his youth of vampires killing their kin. Ignoring the pain, he misted up and swirled away.  
  
When he materialised again his wound had already closed. He was fine, the beast hadn’t done any permanent harm. Somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered whether being bitten would change _him_ into a werewolf now. He really didn’t want to change, werewolves were insensate and primal creatures; bestial instinct and human malice driving them instead of reason. He’d start hunting humans and other sapient creatures and become lost to his blood lust again. Regis violently shook his head, he really didn’t want to think about that. Didn't one need to be cursed to become one? _Focus!_  
  
Panting reached his ears. Regis looked to the east and saw a pack of wolves approaching, speeding towards them. From the corner of his eye he spotted the werewolf, standing on all fours and excitedly shuffling on its paws. The wolves split up into two groups, one aiming for Dettlaff while the other rushed at him.  
  
Regis lashed out at the animals when they got near enough, but they were more clever than he would have expected. The one in front was taunting him, snapping at his ankles before jumping back, out of reach of the vampire’s long claws. The other wolves in the meanwhile circled around him, baring their teeth at him and preparing to jump.  
  
The werewolf grunted a laugh and ran at him; just when Regis wanted to mist up the beast changed its course, turning towards Dettlaff. The other wolves had already circled the younger vampire and one had even gone so far as to jump at the injured vampire and bite his neck. Dettlaff shook his head, trying to dislodge the wolf, but the animal’s jaws had locked down, not letting go.  
  
Seeing red, Regis could feel the change come upon him. His clothes shredded and he felt his bones shifting and in the blink of an eye he’d turned into his vampiric bat-form. There was just one thought on his mind: _Protect!_    
  
Whimpering, Dettlaff was trying to dislodge the wolf from his neck by rolling onto his side. His trapped leg pulled harshly at the snare, but the metal staking it to the ground held firm. The wolf huffed in pain and let go, limping backwards, while its packmates rushed in, led by the werewolf. The larger beast butted its head against Dettlaff’s side, causing the vampire to roll onto his back, then sunk its teeth in his neck.  
  
Regis screeched and flapped his wings, lifting off the floor. With one fell swoop he landed on the werewolf’s back, his clawed feet grabbing hold of the beast’s shoulders. He sank his teeth into the werewolf’s neck and started sucking, warm blood flowing over his tongue; it tasted horrible, like a drink gone bad. Disgusted, Regis shook his head, still gripping the beast’s neck with his teeth.  
  
The wolves had all gathered around Dettlaff now, tails horizontal to the ground, heads lowered, waiting for an opening.  
  
Dettlaff whined, wings weakly batting the ground.  
  
With a furious screech Regis bit down as hard as he could. The werewolf howled, releasing Dettlaff's neck, and slashed its claws backwards, towards him, scratching his wings. Regis bit down again, and again, razor sharp teeth severing the werewolf’s neck in only a few quick bites. Disgusted, Regis spit out the blood in his mouth, narrowing his eyes at the wolves.  
  
He puffed up his fur and opened up his wings, letting go of the now human body, and jumped at the nearest wolf, the one that had bitten Dettlaff earlier. The other wolves whimpered and backed up with their tails between their legs, seeing him kill one of their packmates with just one bite.  
  
Dettlaff stilled his struggles and started squeaking softly.  
  
Regis’ body trembled in fury at hearing the noises his friend made. He screeched and jumped towards one of the other wolves, seeing the others run off in fright while he bit through its neck. He wanted to go after them, make sure that any threat to Dettlaff was taken care of…  
  
Another squeak, a soft whimper…  
  
He turned back towards the trapped vampire; Dettlaff was lying on his back, his neck bleeding sluggishly, the silver covering his body slowing down his regeneration. The young vampire had started shivering and he seemed dazed.  
  
Regis slowly approached, too furious at heart still to manage to change back into one of his alternate forms, so he gently wrapped his wing around Dettlaff’s body and pulled, settling his friend down on his front again, taking care not to jostle the trapped leg too much. He settled down next to him and puffed up his fur, nuzzling the furry black snout with his own stumped muzzle.  
  
Dettlaff was staring straight ahead; wild, dazed eyes glued to the tree line.  
  
Regis chittered softly and used his muzzle to tuck the vampire’s head under his wing, shielding him, holding him close. He then started gently licking Dettlaff’s face, paying extra attention to the young one’s ears, and chirped lowly, wanting to comfort.  
  
Dettlaff’s shivers slowly stopped and his friend lifted his head slightly, his pink tongue slipping out from his lips to give Regis a quick lick on his chin in return.  
  
Regis chirped and settled down, Dettlaff’s head still tucked under his wing. He closed his eyes and breathed slowly, realising he’d need to return to another shape if he wanted to truly help his friend.  
  
After a few heartbeats he felt calmer and managed to turn back into his human shape. It was a pity that every time he changed into his bat-form, which seldom was a planned thing, he lost another set of clothes. He didn’t care about his state of undress, but acquiring a new set of clothes did grow tedious; after all, in this prudish world clothes seemed to be as much of a necessity as food and drink.  
  
No more delay now, his friend had finally calmed down. “Just a breath longer, Dettlaff.” He walked up to the vampire’s leg and took a hold of the snare’s jaws, carefully forcing them wide open.  
  
Dettlaff quickly pulled his leg out and drew the appendage close to his body. His large furry head sank to the ground and his mouth opened as he panted.  
  
Regis crouched down next to him and started stroking the fur, carefully removing the silver particles still clinging to his friend. Dettlaff’s struggle on the ground earlier had removed some of the particles already, but there was still quite an amount of the precious metal clinging to the fur and his wings.  
  
Several minutes later he’d removed as much of the silver as he could using just his hands. “Can you shift back into one of your alternate forms, the mist one preferably?”  
  
Dettlaff’s ears twitched and he slowly blinked up at Regis.  
  
“Please try, it’ll be the quickest way of travel towards Loch Monduirn. A dip in its waters should aid to remove the last of the silver.”  
  
Wrapping his wings close to his body, Dettlaff pressed his head to the ground and closed his eyes. It took several minutes, but finally the young vampire managed to change into his red mist-like shape, swirling listlessly just above the ground.  
  
“Very good, Dettlaff. Follow me.” Regis misted up as well, his blue-grey form swirling around Dettlaff, and gently nudged the vampire in the direction of the lake.  
  
*  
  
The two vampires didn’t stop until they’d entered the water and, once their mist forms had been completely submerged, Dettlaff changed into his human shape and swam to the surface. Regis changed next and immediately started hovering over the younger vampire, manhandling him carefully and turning him full circle, making sure all traces of silver had been removed.  
  
Satisfied that all traces of the metal were gone, Regis allowed Dettlaff to step out of the water. “How do you feel, my friend?” His gaze roved over Dettlaff’s body, and he paid extra close attention to the vampire’s neck and legs; there was no trace of the previous injuries. He did wonder about the future state of his friend’s wings though… The hair on his arms stood on end; they’d only find out when Dettlaff became extremely distressed or furiously enraged and those were states neither vampire would seek out willingly.  
  
Dettlaff’s shoulders hunched and a slight blush appeared on his cheeks. “I’m no longer in as much pain as I was before, Emiel. I mostly feel foolish now.”  
  
“I must admit the situation was quite an unusual one. Do you wish to tell me about it?”  
  
“Suffice to say I shall not be trying to aid a werewolf ever again.” The vampire hugged his arms to his chest, staring at the ground.  
  
Regis nodded his head towards the north. “There’s a druid’s camp across the water, what say you to us getting some clothes?”  
  
Dettlaff nodded slowly, still a bit dazed.  
  
“Well, come on then.” Regis misted up and waited for Dettlaff to do the same, then they swirled across the water and between the trees until they spotted the camp.  
  
The druids never noticed the misty shadows sneaking through their settlement, slipping from one tent to the next until they found what they’d been looking for. They dressed quickly and misted up again, undetected by either human or tamed beast. That was one of the good things of being a higher vampire; if they didn’t want to be noticed they wouldn’t be.  
  
*  
  
They swirled away, materialising into their human forms when they’d reached the east-bank of the lake. Dettlaff breathed heavily, his hands tightly clenching the material of his stolen robe. Just how badly was he feeling?  
  
“Stop your worrying, Emiel. With every breath the pain is lessening.” Dettlaff eyed him over, once, before his eyes flitted over their surroundings. “Where are the others?”  
  
Regis furrowed his brow. “What others?”  
  
Dettlaff’s slip curled up in a sneer. “The crowd.”  
  
Ah. “They’re not here; I truly have no idea where our old _friends_ may be.” And that was just perfect as far as he was concerned.  
  
Dettlaff’s raised an inquisitive eyebrow.  
  
“I no longer run with the crowd. You were right Dettlaff. I’ve been so foolish, behaving in such an appalling manner all those years ago; it escalated over fifty years ago…” Regis scowled, feeling a rush of shame settling in his gut. “Apologies, I don’t want to talk about it right now, but know that I have broken all ties with our old acquaintances… and I’ve made a vow not to drink human blood ever again.”  
  
Dettlaff took a step closer and ducked his head slightly, focusing his eyes on him with an intense gaze. Apparently he saw something, for his expression changed and his friend nodded. “You have grown, Emiel.”  
  
Regis smiled up at the younger vampire. “I go by Regis now.”  
  
Dettlaff lifted his hand and gently cupped the back of his head, stroking lightly. “You have grown, _Regis_.”  
  
There was a warm flutter in his chest hearing his old friend accept his name change so easily. “Yes, well, I’ve had quite some years to think matters through. It’s… difficult, you know of my proclivities, Dettlaff, but I’ve met this remarkable vampire who has become a dear friend; he’s helping me… with many things. I’ve been staying with him for several years already, just south of Belhaven.”  
  
The hand cupping the back of his head dropped and Dettlaff stepped away. “You have a pack now.”  
  
Regis blinked, he hadn’t ever thought about it. He was silent for a while, thinking. Dettlaff was right, he and his dear, wise friend were pack. He smiled, realising for the first time that _this_ is what pack could be like, _should_ be like. “Huh… and what about you, my friend?”  
  
Dettlaff looked back over his shoulder. “My pack is back in Nazair, south from Rhys-Rhun, beyond lake Muredach. Right now it consists of an alp and a bruxa, but they are very dear to me.”  
  
Regis frowned; it sounded like his friend was defending his choice of pack. He took a step forward and cupped Dettlaff’s cheek in his palm, gently turning his face around until their eyes met. “It pleases me to hear you’ve got a pack.”  
  
The vampire grunted, nodding his head once.  
  
“How do you feel now? I apologise for asking again, but you mentioned pain earlier. My friend’s home isn’t too far from here, and it’s quite comfortable. You could heal and rest there, if you’d like?”  
  
“Thank you for your offer, old friend, but I’m all right now. The pain has dulled considerably and I expect that in a few more moments it will have passed completely. I should return to Nazair.”   
  
Regis felt uncomfortable at the thought of letting the other vampire leave. Dettlaff was a silver-sensitive vampire and he’d been covered in silver dust only a short while ago. His wounds had healed, but the fact that he was still in pain seemed to indicate something was wrong. He wanted to know what it could be, but he was no doctor, he had no idea how a vampire’s body worked, or any other creature’s for that matter.  
  
Dettlaff sighed. “Truly, I’ll be all right Regis. Thank you for your aid, I will not be caught off guard again in such a manner.”  
  
“Good. I’m glad our paths crossed, it is good to see you again.” Regis hesitated; he would like to come and visit Dettlaff one day, when he felt more stable, but he didn’t want to impose on his friend by inviting himself over.  
  
As he had often done before, Dettlaff seemed to sense his thoughts. The vampire walked up to him and enfolded him in an embrace, pressing their temples close together. “Don’t be a stranger, Regis, you are welcome to come and visit my home; and to send one of your ravens if you’d like, for correspondence.”  
  
Regis felt a fond smile pulling at his lips. That would be nice actually.   
  
Dettlaff tightened his embrace. “And Regis? If you ever need my help, send word and I’ll come.”  
  
Regis nodded.  
  
Slowly, Dettlaff released his hold. “Farewell, Regis, until next we meet.”  
  
“Until next time, Dettlaff. Safe travels.”  
  
With those parting words, both vampires shifted into their mist-like shapes and silently swirled away.  
  
*  
  
When Regis returned to his friend’s, to _their_ home, he was pleased to see his dear friend had returned from Toussaint.  
  
“Regis! Are you all right? What are you wearing?” His friend hurried towards him and gently lifted his chin, turning his head first to the right, then to the left, worried eyes checking him over.  
  
“I’m fine, my friend.” Regis smiled, patiently allowing his _packmate_ to reassure himself that he was unharmed. Once the older vampire seemed satisfied, Regis gestured towards the couch. “To silence your worry and satisfy your curiosity, let me tell you what happened…”  
  
**The end**

**Author's Note:**

> Regis and Dettlaff are still quite young here, I imagine them being VERY young adults (old enough to drink at least). Regis’ remark that he’s not a doctor is true here – first he was too busy with the plasma crowd and his fifty-year stint in pieces, then he’s with his humanist friend who helps him. It’s only later that he decides that he wants to be a doctor – for several reasons…


End file.
